I cross legs on the wet wooden bench. Rain pouring like the heavens tears. Blood-shot eyes cannot compare to the dark hole you have created inside of me. What did I do wrong? Is it my failiure to fill your every need, so much that we cannot be as whole?Is this just a broken memory that has not faded into my mind, lost forever in blackness? Please I need to know the void that splits us into a crevice, hanging on only the crack in the wall? Please I need answers to complete me. For if you do not come, you will break my heart into a thousand shadier peices of hate.
Thunderstorms are the weather of sadness, the clouds grieving over the pathetic beings of Earth. How can it only be a councidence that i was born on a day like this. Every day on a thunderstorming night, I cry in the rain, so nobody can see that I was sobbing that nobody loved my enough, to kill me, to end my suffering.
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